I know nothing; still, I cannot help singing. ~A. R. Ammons
This has been a favorite line of mine for a very long time. I don’t remember where I ran across it, since I don’t think I’ve read Ammons’ poetry. (There’s something I need to do!) The line, to me, is perfect, though.
While it is not literally about singing, the line reminds me that I miss singing. For several years I sang in the local UU church choir. Although I don’t consider myself to have a particularly good singing voice, I can mostly carry a tune, was tolerated in the alto section, and loved doing it. I’m always hesitant to become part of group effort (I chafe at the social and political aspects), but there is something about making music with others that is spiritually satisfying.
For at least a couple of decades in my younger life, I was almost always conscious of a tune underneath my breath. I think I sang my way through a lot of hard times, comforting myself with that inaudible head music. But at some point, I realized it was no longer there, and I can’t say why. Do I just not need the comfort anymore?
I want to sing again.